Ordinary Dreams
by tempus terere
Summary: On coming full circle. — KagamiKuroko
1. live while you can

**Notes:** Honestly, this is such a terrible idea. What is _wrong_ with me? WIPs and I never work out.

* * *

Kuroko hadn't harbored very high hopes for his high school basketball team. He hadn't allowed himself to. Still, playing was a necessity to him, and a no-name school like Seirin seemed like a reasonable place to look for a team not consisting of dysfunctional athletic geniuses (himself excluded; Kuroko thought himself neither very dysfunctional nor athletic).

He had been wrong.

* * *

As Kuroko filled out his application form, someone lined up beside him, jutting up so high into the air that his shadow was engulfing him completely. Kuroko glanced upward.

Next to him stood — no, _towered _— a boy who was almost as broad as he was tall with hair a shade of red that reminded Kuroko of dying ember.

The boy handed in his own form without a word and left as abruptly as he had come.

Kuroko stared after him with a sinking feeling in his lungs.

The boy resembled Aomine.

* * *

To Kuroko Aomine was like a raw wound he thought he would never fully recover from, regardless of the effort he put into closing it.

On better days he simply missed him. His reckless laugh, all teeth and no eyes. His never-ending faith in Kuroko that had gone compulsively against all odds stacked up in front of him.

On bad days Kuroko mourned him, mourned everything the world had lost on the day Aomine had forgotten how to feel anything but apathetic boredom.

Aomine's transformation had petrified everybody involved despite — or maybe because of — the slow burn it had been. It'd been torture to witness, and every endeavor to retract it had been crushed by Aomine's thick-headedness, a trait Kuroko had admired before. Now all that was left of him was someone who _looked_ like Aomine but wasn't.

Kuroko came to suspect that perhaps he simply wasn't meant to forget about him. It made him wary of the future, if it required him to remember.

* * *

The unforeseen encounter had shaken Kuroko off kilter. Signing up for Seirin's basketball club together with this boy who appeared to resemble Aomine in all the wrong places could easily turn into a second ultimate MCA for him. Usually, he wasn't prone to dramatics, but he was convinced that, were he to be part of the rise and fall of someone so beautiful and talented again, it would wreck him.

Well. It was a steep price to pay for basketball, but basketball was the one thing he loved the most in the world.

* * *

Kuroko had never been sure why it was basketball out of all things. Certainly, there was a lot to say about the beauty of the sport, the athletic challenge it posed; yet Kuroko felt he liked it for a different reason, something he couldn't quite explain.

He resolved it didn't really matter either way. People got invested in random things all the time. The daughter of his neighbor used to collect _socks_. Risking his emotional stability for basketball was perfectly sensible in comparison.

* * *

The first try-outs for the team confirmed Kuroko's misgivings. The boy was gifted with an exceptional talent for basketball, unwrought and sharp and bright. His name was Kagami Taiga. At least the coach, Aida-san, had called him that. The entire gym was dumbstruck, partly in admiration and partly in envy, as he stuck up impossibly tall next to everyone else, like some sort of extremely burly pillar.

To his own surprise, the prospect of having such a ridiculously talented teammate once again excited Kuroko more than it worried him.

* * *

Kuroko registered it immediately when Kagami's enormous form entered the food court that evening. Unnerved, he watched him order an astonishing amount of burgers and quietly hoped his misdirection would save him from any confrontation.

It didn't. To Kuroko's mounting discomfort, Kagami sat down on the seat directly opposite him. At first he thought it was deliberate, an attempt to get some info on the Generation of Miracles maybe, but he noticed Kagami hadn't even so much as blinked in his direction.

His misdirection had not saved him, it had caused this entire ordeal. Magnificent.

Kagami boggled once he saw that he hadn't actually sat down at an empty table.

"S-since when have _you_ been here?" he squawked and inched backwards in his chair, nearly knocking himself over. Kuroko snorted into his jumbo milkshake.

"I've been here the whole time." He paused and added, just to see how Kagami would react, "_Watching_ people."

It was priceless. Kagami stared at him in undisguised horror, and Kuroko guessed the only reason why he hadn't bolted yet was that running from a guy two heads shorter than him would probably kaput his ego beyond repair.

In the end, Kagami said nothing to that and just proceeded to maul his burgers while Kuroko drank his milkshake in silence, watching the fascinating, if slightly disgusting, display before him.

Amazingly, the encounter hadn't been finished afterwards.

"I want you to come with me for a bit," Kagami declared as he got up to dispose of the remains of his fast food orgy.

Kuroko had a hunch how this was going to turn out.

He sighed, tossed his empty cup into the trash and followed Kagami to a deserted basketball field just a few blocks over. He thought he remembered it from when he was little.

"I lived in America until second year of middle school," Kagami opened, stretching his arms toward the dull, black sky. "When I came back to Japan, I was really disappointed. The basketball here is _pathetic_. But I want to play in real matches. You know, matches that get my blood boiling. Earlier you and the coach were babbling about 'miracles' or something. Some strong team you used to be in, right? 'S weird, though, you don't look too impressive. I can smell that, you see. Power, I mean. You smell neither weak nor strong. You don't smell like anything at all. I'm curious about what you can do."

Yeah, Kuroko had seen this coming. "What a coincidence," he replied, shrugging out of his jacket. "I wanted to test you as well." It wasn't really a lie. He could assess Kagami's strength by looking, but seeing the real thing up close would give him a more accurate account. He had merely assumed he wouldn't have to find out in a spontaneous one-on-one game on some empty court at night.

As expected, he didn't stand a chance. Kagami moved with an agility that shouldn't have been possible for a fifteen-year-old, and Kuroko had nothing to counter it with. It was no shock that Kagami was extremely frustrated with this, but seriously? If he really was as good as he prided himself on, he should have known this was going to happen.

"What the hell," Kagami snapped, throwing the ball to the ground as though it had been the one to offend him. "You gotta be kidding me! I thought you wanted to test me!"

"I have. I never claimed I would be able to beat you, I just wanted to see you play."

Kagami's forehead met the palm of his hand, and he groaned. "_God_." He bent down to pick up his bag and jacket and said, "I'm outta here."

He took a few steps toward the exit, halted and turned around. "One last thing. You should quit basketball. No matter what pretty things you can say about effort or whatever, it's an undeniable fact that you need at least an _ounce_ of talent to be a good player, and you? You have none."

Kuroko had been prepared for something like this, but it stung nonetheless. "I disagree," he answered as calmly as he could. "I love basketball, and I am not just going to stop playing it because you tell me to. Also, I do not particularly care about who is the strongest."

Kagami recoiled like a spring. "What —"

"I am different from you," Kuroko cut him off. "I am a shadow."

Kagami gave him a puzzled look. Kuroko shrugged, grabbed his things and headed home. He didn't care to elaborate any further. Kagami would find out soon enough.

* * *

The following day Aida-san had them play a "mini-game", freshmen vs. the club regulars. Kagami dominated it immediately with his feral ball control. Kuroko observed from the back, forgotten by opponents and teammates alike, and would have rolled his eyes at Kagami's selfish solo performance if he hadn't yelled at the others for being a nuisance, which was _eleven kinds_ of rich, honestly.

Kuroko ground his teeth, exhaled through his nose and kicked him in the shin. Kagami whipped around from backing a frightened, brown-haired boy into a corner and erupted into another hissy fit upon seeing Kuroko, who ignored him and trailed off in the direction of the ball, lying abandoned in the center of the field. He'd had enough of Kagami's snooty attitude.

He took the ball and passed it to the player closest to the hoop. The boy caught it despite his surprise about the sudden resumption of the match and scored. In a flash, the whole gym burst into erratic shouting about how that pass had gone through, but, of course, nobody had seen anything. Kuroko didn't pay them any attention and went on to pass again. The coach would figure it out soon, and then she could explain it to everyone else.

Aida-san did not disappoint him. At the end of her explanation, Kuroko glimpsed over to Kagami who was evidently trying to single him out on the court and failing, mouth and eyes comically wide. Kuroko grinned and shot him the ball.

* * *

Somehow Kagami ended up at his table at Maji Burger _again_. Kuroko seriously debated switching stores even though the milkshakes here were the best in this part of town.

Kagami scowled at him over his stash of burgers as if _he_ was the victim in this scenario. "Don't think we're friends now," he warned.

Kuroko had been nowhere near that thought, but he supposed saying that out loud would be _too_ rude. "I was here first," he said around the straw of his milkshake. "You are the one who keeps seeking me out."

"I am _not_ seeking you out," Kagami barked with a jerky motion of his hands that looked like he was attempting to shove the words back into Kuroko's mouth.

Kuroko raised an eyebrow. Kagami huffed and slumped back into his seat. After a while of mutual annoyed silence, he tossed Kuroko one of his burgers. Kuroko cocked his head in confusion.

"I'm not interested in weak people," he announced as though it needed any more clarification. "But I'll acknowledge that you're worth one piece of all that." He gesticulated toward the batch of burgers in front of him.

This wasn't happening. No one on this planet could be this much of a self-righteous douchebag.

"Thank you," Kuroko said by courtesy and restrained himself from kicking him in the shin again because this was a public place and his parents had raised him better than that. Still, the mental image was very therapeutic.

Pleased with himself, Kagami smiled broadly and started pitching into his meal. Kuroko used this moment of distraction to slip the burger back into the pile it had come from. Kagami didn't notice — or didn't mind.

* * *

It took Kagami eleven minutes and 37 seconds to plow through 26 Maji Burgers. Kuroko couldn't decide whether to be impressed or disturbed. Apparently, this was developing into a recurring pattern.

* * *

"How strong are those miracle dudes, anyway?" Kagami asked outside. Kuroko wasn't quite sure how they had gotten here together or why Kagami was asking this _now_. Maybe he was just slow on the uptake while hungry. It would certainly explain a lot. "What'd happen if I went against them right now?"

Kuroko was going to enjoy this much more than he should. "You would be crushed in an instant," he answered evenly. Kagami's expression derailed. Kuroko had to fake a cough to choke the incoming onslaught of laughter.

Kagami pursed his lips. "So what, they're _all_ better than me?"

"The five of u — them have gone to different schools, all veteran ones." He paused to take a breath. He had almost said "us". "There is no doubt one of them will be at the top."

Kagami grinned. It looked kind of manic. "Sweet," he said, more to himself than to Kuroko. "That's what I've been looking for. I'm gonna take these guys down and become number one in Japan."

Kuroko eyed him with distaste and wondered how anyone halfway sane could be so delusional. Kagami's eyes were almost fluorescent in the dark, alight with crazed anticipation.

_Scratch that_, Kuroko thought to himself. _Definitely nothing sane about this one_.

Regarding Kagami like that, Kuroko couldn't help but get a little pulled in by his enthusiasm. In his own fucked up way, Kagami loved basketball just as much as Kuroko did. Even if his ego was way out of proportion and there was no guarantee they could actually beat the Generation of Miracles together.

Kuroko felt the wound that Aomine had left inside of him ache, the pain too sharp to be physical.

In all honesty, he had no right to judge Kagami for his egocentrism. He was self-absorbed himself, only in a more pitiful, self-loathing kind of way.

For a moment Kuroko closed his eyes. With Kagami Seirin might stand a chance against the Miracles, given he could learn how to be team player. Maybe they could resurrect whatever was left of the old Aomine. The power the possibility had over him frightened Kuroko. Kagami's delusions were far more infectious than estimated, it seemed.


	2. just spin the bottle now

**Notes:** The new semester starts tomorrow, I'm panicking, so I'm doing the only sensible thing I could in this situation: writing fanfic.

* * *

Aomine had once said to him that he could achieve anything if he worked hard enough, even a place as a regular player in the infamous Teikou Middle School basketball team. He had said he believed in Kuroko.

What would that Aomine say if he was here now? Would he still have faith in Kuroko, knowing he'd already failed him once?

The lack of an answer made him nauseous, as did the prospect of having to rely on someone like Kagami for all of this. He longed to ask Ogiwara-kun for advice, but he'd squandered the right to do so already long ago. He had to make it through this on his own.

* * *

"For you alone that will be impossible," he said. It was only a half-truth — who knew, Kagami had potential, maybe he _could_ do it alone —, but he had nothing more to bargain with at the moment.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kagami demanded, giving him the stink-eye.

"I am a shadow," Kuroko responded quietly. "Without shadows there would be nothing to contrast the light. I will help you become number one. I am going to make your light stand out from the rest."

Kagami blinked, then broke into a smirk so wide it looked almost painful. "You sure talk big for someone so small," he said, more breath than voice. Floodlit by the street lamps, he glowed in the night as though he truly was some sort of light source of his own and Kuroko his shadow.

_What an idiot_, Kuroko thought, a bit unsure whether it was directed at Kagami or himself, but later he would only remember this: Kagami, illuminated and tall like the Tokyo Tower, staring off into the middle distance as if he was expecting one of the Generation of Miracles to pop up right here, his teeth an uneven row of razors, glinting with mad certainty — a boy like molten lava cast in a spark of time.

* * *

On some level, Kuroko knew that he was kind of in over his head.

Originally, he had decided to leave his past in Teikou behind when he entered high school, and now he was agreeing to work together with some egomaniacal jackass to defeat his old teammates. He suspected his ongoing fixation on Aomine and the Generation of Miracles wasn't quite healthy, and Kagami's influence on his resolve perplexed him, but Kuroko kept going with it, and he really, _really_ could not fathom why. Perhaps Kagami's special personal brand of crazy was simply very contagious.

* * *

Becoming a regular player on Seirin's team, as it turned out, entailed a tad more than Aida-san had first let on. When Kuroko asked her about it on Friday, she told him to come to the school's rooftop on Monday at 8:40 AM sharp. Idly excited and somewhat anxious, he wondered what she was plotting. He liked Aida-san because she was smart, perceptive and preternaturally gifted, but that also made her scary as hell. In that respect, she was rather like Momoi-san.

The weekend came and went, and then Monday morning was there. On the rooftop, all freshmen candidates had gathered around Aida-san to learn what their last trial would be.

With sinister glee she heralded, "You're going to shout your name, class and goal for this year so that everybody at the assembly down there can hear you!" She motioned toward the mass of students beneath them in the schoolyard, lined up neatly in front of a podium on which the principal and the student council president were about to give their monthly motivational speeches. "If you don't, I'll have you confess to the girl you like while absolutely naked."

At that most of the boys shrieked in horror or exchanged terrified glances with their neighbors. Meanwhile, Kuroko wondered in how far this would apply to him as there was no girl whom he liked that way, and there never would be.

Next to him a few people got shoved sideways as Kagami pushed forward, stepped out of the crowd and jumped on the rail. "Class 1-B, Kagami Taiga," he bellowed. "I'm gonna beat the Generation of Miracles and be the best basketball player in Japan!"

Below, the swarm of students broke into a hum of bewildered murmurs. Content with his result, Kagami smirked and hopped back down. Kuroko felt something hot flood his ribcage at the sight, which made no sense, because that had been loud, obnoxious and overly dramatic, much like everything else about Kagami. He blamed it on the rush and the general tension of the moment.

"Next one?" Aida-san prompted merrily.

Kuroko was about to raise his hand, but then a handful of indignant teachers burst through the door and busted the meeting. He sighed. So much for that.

* * *

Kuroko was not going to give up on his place on the team. Admittedly, he could no longer do that shouting from the rooftop thing because the school board had decreed that students no longer be allowed up there and hence locked the entryway, but surely he could prove his worthiness of the club some other way. Maybe —

A clattering sound in his near vicinity drew him away from the thought. Kuroko peered upward to see Kagami settling down on the seat across him, huge mound of burgers and all. It seemed intentional, not accidental, this time, like he'd _wanted_ to sit at Kuroko's table, which … huh.

"I've been thinking. There's something bothering me," Kagami said, knees jittering nervously under the table. It was a bizarre view. What could possibly evoke that kind of edginess in him? "Why didn't you join a seeded school like all the other miracle guys? Did something happen in middle school, or do you — do you have a special reason for playing basketball?"

Kuroko was actually kind of taken aback. Objectively speaking, it was pretty ridiculous that Kagami was so jumpy about _that_, but Kuroko got it. Unlikely as it was, the two of them shared that — this intense, slightly freakish fervor for basketball.

Truth be told, Kuroko didn't really know what to say. He had thought Kagami would tell him to be glad he hadn't gotten the opportunity to take part in Aida-san's shouting contest or that he'd insist Kuroko should quit while he was ahead or — or _something_, but not this. Had Kagami's opinion of him changed that much? And if so, why? Only a few days ago he had compared him to a _hamburger_.

Kuroko bit his lip. "The Generation of Miracles was very powerful but lacked something important. We — they were not a team. I played on the same side of the court as them, but that was all. I never played together along _with_ them, so I quit. I planned to stop chasing them, I wanted to find a place where I could just play basketball in peace. I found this school and — and you." He swallowed. He was confessing a lot right now, and he had no idea why. It appeared, by sheer proximity, Kagami was making him lose his mind. "When you said you wanted to win against the Generation of Miracles, that gave me hope. That is why I intend to help you. For the time being, this is my reason for playing basketball."

Kagami sat back and studied him for a moment. Blushing slightly, he asked, "How can you say stuff like that with a straight face?" He cleared his throat, and his gaze flitted downward.

Kuroko felt himself go hot. Warmth spread through his body until every nerve was alight with it. He cursed under his breath while Kagami fled the scene, ostensibly embarrassed by them both. Kuroko could relate.

* * *

One day later there was a message scrawled all over the front yard of the school, clumsy strokes of white paint against the gravelly black of the asphalt. It read, "We will be number one. Class 1-B, Kuroko Tetsuya."


	3. hurry up and wait

**Notes:** This chapter feels like a giant clusterfuck. I'm sorry.

* * *

Kuroko had lost his grip on what was happening.

Somehow Aida-san had organized a practice match already even though they weren't even two weeks into the new term, and _somehow_ she had pulled it off that their opponent was a team of one of the Generation of Miracles.

He wondered what had gotten into her. Had Kagami won her over too? Or was she just clinically insane? He wasn't sure which would be worse.

Well. If Seirin's first game was against a veteran school with a member of the Generation of Miracles in tow, he didn't really have the leisure of fear or worry. Even if it was Kise — one the weaker ones of the Generation of Miracles (along with himself, Kuroko noted acerbically). Maybe, with just enough luck and training, they'd have a chance.

Kagami certainly seemed to think so, if his batshit grin and piercing stare were any indication. Kuroko followed his eyes to check whether they were actually directed at something specific for once. They were.

"It's been a while," Kuroko said warily.

"Kurokocchi," Kise exclaimed, and something in Kuroko's guts churned. He didn't dislike Kise or thought he was a bad person, he was just too vain to be real most of the time. Kuroko liked him better without this PR stunt of a personality. "I missed you, so I came to say hi. After all, we got along best in the team, weren't we?"

"Not particularly," Kuroko said blankly. If Kise acted like nothing had changed, then so would he. It was true too, mostly. Kise and he had been friends, sure, but not the closest. Kuroko may have missed him now and then, but things were different now, with each one of the Generation of Miracles. All of them had broken too many promises, and they couldn't just keep walking on the shattered pieces forever. At least Kuroko couldn't. _Wouldn't_.

"Wait," one of the second-years (Tsuchi? Tsuda? _Tsuchida_) interjected, gaping at Kise. "I've read an article about you somewhere. It said you only started playing basketball two years ago. Is that true?"

Kise gave a sheepish smile, a sign his true self was surfacing. "I'm not that great, really. I'm glad to be considered part of the Generation of Miracles, but almost everyone else is stronger than me. That was also the reason why Kuroko and me always got picked on. You know, we were kind of the plebs among the elite."

"Me?" Kuroko said with a little more edge. "Not really." It annoyed him that Kise had the gall to talk like they'd never stopped being friends.

A basketball disrupted the conversation, whirling toward Kise, who caught it easily. Kuroko didn't bother to look around, he knew who'd thrown it.

"Sorry to disturb your reunion," Kagami's voice resounded from somewhere farther down the gym, gradually coming closer until it came to a halt right beside him. "I was hoping you'd show me a taste of your strength, pretty boy."

Kise smirked. Kuroko didn't like where this was going.

"Alright."

Something cold and heavy weighed down on his chest. It dawned upon him that he had completely miscalculated this whole thing. It was a stupid mistake, too. Kuroko didn't _know_ this Kise. _This_ Kise had already played several matches without him watching, and he'd had to be training. He must be a much better player now than he had been in Teikou's team whereas Kuroko was still the same, petty and bitter, a deserter who felt deserted.

(He had promised Kagami he would make them number one. Why did he keep doing that? It never amounted to anything; he always wound up breaking his promises.

_Old habits die hard_, he guessed.)

* * *

When Kise said he wanted to play basketball with him in the same team again, Kuroko stopped breathing. He tried to inhale, but it was futile. Kise's words had pulled him into a vacuum.

How was he supposed to play basketball with any of them ever again? _How_ had Kise been unable to catch that memo after all that had happened?

Somewhere at the edge of his peripheral vision, the others were whispering urgently, except for Kagami. Kuroko didn't hear what they said, but he knew anyway.

Eventually, his body reminded him that he was not, in fact, in a vacuum and needed air. He obliged.

* * *

Kuroko spent the following week in a daze, detached from the world and the people around him. He morphed into an observer of his life, in which things happened to him but remained out of the range of his influence. Even his own body seemed oddly distant.

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be hurt. He wanted to scream. He _willed_ himself to feel something, anything at all, but he could not. Kise's proposal had been poison. It had numbed all of Kuroko's senses, stuffed his head with cotton and torn him apart limb for limb. Now all that was left was a messy tangle of flesh, bone and regrets, poorly stitched back together.

* * *

On Friday his mother talked to him after dinner. He'd been dreading this for a while. She had been giving him these concerned looks.

"How's school?" she asked, purposefully focusing on the dishes in the sink as Kuroko wiped the kitchen table.

"Fine," he said. There was a tenacious stain of soy sauce just at the edge of the table. He wondered how it had gotten there. "Everything is fine."

"That's good to hear." She hesitated. Kuroko tried to concentrate on the soy stain. "Ogiwara-kun called today."

* * *

"How've you been?"

"Good, thank you," Kuroko answered, hand sweaty around the receiver. "What about you?"

"Just peachy." Kuroko could hear in his voice that he was grinning. "'M not used to my new uniform yet, though. I hate ties."

Kuroko nodded, realized that Ogiwara-kun couldn't see, and made what he hoped was a noise of agreement.

Ogiwara-kun did not speak for a moment. Then, "How's the new club?"

Guilt welled up inside Kuroko, licking hotly at the backside of his throat. "I —" He had no idea what he should to say. Every sentence, every word, he could think of seemed fragile and paper-thin, mere vibrations in the air, dancing on the backs of dust particles until they disintegrated into nothing.

"No," said Ogiwara-kun. "No, we are not doing this again. Don't tell me you're sorry. You don't get to be sorry anymore."

"I know, I—"

"You _don't_. You don't know. That's the problem. You keep blaming yourself for things you had no power over, and you _keep_ burying yourself deeper into your misery. It was never your fault that I quit. Do you peg me as someone who'd think it was? We're friends, Tetsuya, and we will still be even when you play basketball and I don't."

Kuroko felt like he was going to choke on his own breath. "You — you really do not mind that I am still playing?"

Ogiwara-kun laughed. Kuroko was amazed to discover that it sounded genuine. "_Dude_," he said as if it was a proper response. Somehow, to Kuroko, it was.

"Thank you," he said and thought, ashamedly, that he must be incredibly stupid and immature. Ogiwara-kun was right about everything he'd said, and Kuroko had known all of it, but he'd gone on pitying himself because it was easier than dealing with any of it, with the pain and the memories, the regrets and the cold fingers of fear around his neck. He'd been such a coward.

Even now there was just so much of everything, and it all lodged inside his head, screaming at him whenever he touched the worn rubber of his basketball. He wanted it to go away but didn't think it ever would, so he needed to learn to live with it although he had no clue how.

"Anyway, about the club," Ogiwara-kun chirped, undeterred. "Any good players around?"

A picture of Kagami flitted through Kuroko's mind: clear-cut and straightforward — one in a million, for better or worse.

"Yes," he affirmed. "One of them is a lot like the Generation of Miracles."

Ogiwara-kun whistled. "Then you have a good chance to win nationals this year."

"I don't know. Maybe." Kuroko shut his eyes. "I'm afraid."

"That's okay," Ogiwara-kun said. He sounded so sincere that Kuroko could only believe him. "It's alright to be afraid as long as you keep moving forward."

"I will," Kuroko assured him. It was absurd how he hadn't been able to come to terms with this on his own. But that was just the thing, wasn't it? Some things you just can't do alone, and this was one of them, but his self-pity had paralyzed him, blinded him, and frightened him of his own ability to trust.

"Good," Ogiwara-kun laughed, and the sound of it made Kuroko feel a bit more human.

* * *

That night Kuroko dreamed of Kagami.

He was watching him in school. He never talked to him, just continued watching. Watched Kagami's confidence that was so outrageous that it was almost intriguing. Watched the way he over-enunciated certain syllables, a drawback from growing up in the USA probably. Watched the red of his hair, stark and sharp like blood and steel in the early morning sunlight.

* * *

(Kagami was terrifying in a beautiful sort of way because he had an air of purpose, of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Kuroko was nothing like that. None of what he'd once been belonged to him anymore.

Kagami's smile was radioactive, contaminating Kuroko from head to toe until he felt like smiling too.

Kagami was overbearing and irritating, but he was also endearing in corners Kuroko would have never thought to look.)

* * *

The meet-up with the team turned out to be anticlimactically normal, and Kuroko didn't know whether to be angry or glad about that. Nobody commented on his peculiar behavior during the previous week. He hoped the reason for this was careful discretion rather than disinterest. With Kagami, however, he buried this hope as he arrived at the last minute, bloodshot eyes squinting at Kuroko a couple of times before he barked, "What're _you_ lookin' at?"

Kuroko snorted, the sensation soothingly familiar. "Your eyes look even more bleary than usual."

"Stuff it." Kagami huffed angrily. "I couldn't sleep, I was too excited."

Kuroko was not surprised. "What are you, a grade-schooler before a field trip?" Despite the jibe, a smile wounds its way across his face. Giddy with relief and the smooth rhythm of his heart, he eagerly sucked in the flowery mid-Spring breeze.

Kagami elbowed him lightly. It was just a small gesture within an even smaller exchange, but to Kuroko it seemed like something huge, as though the two of them had breached a milestone. He hoped they had.

* * *

When Kaijou's coach disclosed to them that they'd be playing on only half a court, Kuroko was just as furious as the rest of Seirin. Right after the opening of the match, he glanced pointedly at Kagami, passed him the ball, and Kagami bolted forward, scored — and broke the hoop. Well, _that_ hadn't gone exactly according to plan. It'd been _better_. Kagami spun around, twirling the severed hoop around his index finger, and beamed. Kuroko couldn't help mirroring him.

"We apologize, it appears the goal has been destroyed. Would you mind if we used the other half of the field after all?"

Kaijou's coach was practically seething. He yelled something at Kise and his teammates, had the ones training on the other side leave the gym, and the game resumed.

Kaijou's basketball, not solely Kise himself, was even stronger than Kuroko had estimated. If Seirin carried on like this, wasting precious energy and nerves, they would never get any ground on their opponent. As embarrassing as it was, they desperately required a timeout to restrategize.

"What is it?" Aida-san demanded, hands on her hips.

Kuroko clutched at his wristband. "Surely, you noticed," he said quietly. "We are all tiring out already. We need a different approach to this match, or we will be crushed."

Aida-san looked torn. "What did you have in mind?"

"We take advantage of Kise's weak point."

"Weak point," Hyuga echoed. "How come you didn't mention that sooner?"

Kuroko's eyes slanted toward the ground. "There is something else we have to consider. I am losing my efficiency. My misdirection is not going to work much longer."

Aida-san screeched a noise of pure frustration and pulled him into a headlock. "You should have warned us about that so we can prepare for —"

"Timeout over," it sounded across the hall.

She let go of him and started shouting hurried instructions at the team. He did his best to calm his respiration.

"Kuroko," she called from the sidelines as he made his way back on the court. "Slow down a bit! We'll be okay so long as the point difference doesn't get too wide. Can you take care of that?"

By her tone he could tell her enquiry was genuine. She wasn't merely thinking about victory but her players and their respective conditions. Although he appreciated that, he did not intend to resign from the game just yet.

"I will try," he answered.

* * *

Kaijou remained the dominating force in the game. Kuroko came close to scolding himself for being so foolish to have believed there had ever existed the possibility for them to win when Kagami burst into roaring laughter and the sane part of the gym into silence.

"I have to thank you," he told Kise, who eyeballed him warily. "I haven't had this much fun in years. It's perfect if I can't win, but don't think I've already given up. This is just the beginning. You're the absolute opposite of _him_." A smirk sprawled over his face, a lazy, lopsided threat. At the sight Kuroko pictured a predator who couldn't be bothered to deal with a trespassing rival, baring his teeth once or twice so the matter would be settled.

Kagami grabbed him by the back of his collar and dragged him into the conversation. "_H_e's your weakness."

Slightly taken off guard, he disengaged himself from him. "Well, he is half right. Alone none of us is a match for you, but together we are."

"You changed." Kise's mask of cheerful naivety had cracked. "You weren't playing like this in Teikou. Whatever. I'll win anyway."

Kuroko thought of Ogiwara-kun and smiled. He was going forward like he'd told him to, one step at a time, in the right direction.

* * *

It proved to be a hard piece of effort, but, eventually, they managed to melt the point difference Kaijou had accumulated. It was almost going too well.

Then Kise's elbow accidentally hit Kuroko's forehead, a flurry of motion, color and pain, and for the next ten or so seconds he was gone. When he came to again, his head stung and burned terribly, and something hot was pouring down his left temple. _Blood_, he realized, somewhat unpinned.

"Hey," someone said from somewhere outside his cloudy vision. "Are you alright?"

Kuroko tilted his head upward. Kagami scrutinized him worriedly, and Kuroko decided that concern was something distinctly alien and off-putting on his face and thus should be avoided at all costs.

"I am fine," he lied. "The match is not over yet." He pressed his lips together, stood up, wobbled —

And was out like a light.

* * *

He only woke up at the conclusion of the third quarter. Faintly, his ringing ears discerned voices, his name and the word "playing". He sat up and winced. Except for the boring throb in his skull, he didn't recall anything from before he blacked out, and the throb was still present, so _that_ was a bummer.

Clearing his throat, he rasped out, "Good morning." Alarmed, Aida-san whipped around. "I will be going now."

"Are you out of your mind?" she shouted shrilly, gawping at him. "Just look at you! You'll go nowhere but a doctor."

Kuroko attempted to play dumb and put on his puppy face, a tactic which had always had an immense impact on Momoi-san. Aida-san did not yield. Kuroko pressed on, stabbing at the dark. "But didn't you say I should play?" Well, semi-dark. If his name and "playing" occurred in the same sentence, there was a rather limited range of meaning left.

Aida-san groaned. "'What if'! I said, 'what if'!"

Kuroko would have liked to groan too. Compared to her, Momoi-san had truly been a shallow shell to snap open. "The situation will only change if I return to the field." His vision blurred, but he forced himself to stay upright. "I promised to become Kagami-kun's shadow. Don't make me break it."

Aida-san grimaced. Kuroko felt a little guilty for putting her on the spot like this, but not going just wasn't an option.

"Alright," she said through her teeth. "If you so much as stagger, though, you're back on the bench."

Kuroko nodded. Fair enough.

* * *

The final minutes stretched endlessly. Seirin had caught up with Kaijou at last, and the battle for the last points was an excruciating one. Kise obscured Kuroko's passes whenever he could while the other members of Kaijou made sure none of the offense players got too close to the hoop.

Kuroko's breath burned through his lungs as he pitched the ball forward once more. There were only a few seconds left. Kagami and Kise arrived at the ball's destination, the goal, at the same time, and jumped. Kise began to fall first, and that was Kagami's chance. He slammed the ball into the net.

The referee whistled.

It was over. They had won.

Feeling strangely suspended, Kuroko squinted at the score. 100 : 98. His lungs continued getting ever hotter, two feverish furnaces incinerating him from the inside out. Across the gym Kagami hollered euphorically, punching the air. Their promise was still intact. Kuroko smiled.

* * *

Kise cried. It made him uncomfortable, but Kuroko understood him. If the situation were reversed, he might do the same.

Kaijou's captain, Kasamatsu, grinned at them as they parted. "We're in different districts, so we'll see us again at the Interhigh Tournament."

Internally, Kuroko agreed with him.

* * *

After the all-you-can-eat steak feast, during which Kagami had gobbled up staggering 16 large portions of meat, rice and more meat, Kuroko stepped out of the restaurant to get some fresh air and a few moments to think for himself. Outside on the sidewalk, he bumped into Kise.

"Do you have a minute?" he asked. He looked serious, no trace of a too wide smile anywhere.

"Sure," Kuroko answered a bit reluctantly.

They walked to a playground just around a corner. Kise sat down on the backrest of a bench, absentmindedly rolling a basketball in his hands.

"I've seen Midorimacchi."

Kuroko made a face.

"I know," Kise said. "I think he came to watch our game. You should keep an eye on him."

"Okay," Kuroko replied, impatient. Hopefully the others hadn't left the steakhouse yet. "Is that all?"

Kise pursed his lips, and he lifted himself from his seat. "I want to know why you quit after the finals of the middle school tournament."


	4. i walk to the borders on my own

**Notes:** In the comments section, someone has remarked that Kagami is "OOC [...] because he sounds quite arrogant". Normally, I would refrain from dealing with this in my author's notes, but I feel this matter requires a public address. As I have already pointed out to the commenter, Kagami is, in fact, not out of character. Indeed, he sounds arrogant because he is (well, not as much as in the beginning, but I digress), and the fandom tends to forget this a lot. If you don't believe me, reread/rewatch the first arc(s) of the manga/anime. I'm trying to stick as close to the original sources as possible and write this while _literally_ cross-referencing the manga page by page.  
**Notes 2:** I apologize for the short chapter, but I really wanted to cut it this way.

* * *

"It is difficult to explain," Kuroko said, feeling sick. How could Kise not know? How could _anyone_ be so dense? "But … the team was missing something."

"Missing?" Kise scrunched up his nose in confusion. "Sports are all about winning. What else is there?"

"I used to think that too, once." On their way to Kuroko's mouth, the words hollowed him out, carving out his flesh and blood, and only shame and bone remained, coated in the traitorous mantle of humanity. "Even now I do not fully understand what was missing back then, but I remember it made me hate basketball. I had loved it before. That is what I find incredible about Kagami-kun. He loves basketball from the bottom of his heart."

"I still don't get it." Kise shook his head. "Well, even if that's why you're so taken with him or whatever it is that's going on, it's not going to last." He smiled nervously, lips strained. Kuroko presumed it was his go-to expression in emergency scenarios, those rare occasions when he wasn't sure what to do with his face. "There's a difference between me and the others of the Generation of Miracles. You all have a special talent that no one else has, that nobody could ever replicate. Not even me. During the match today, I realized this applies to Kagami as well. He hasn't figured it out yet, but he will someday. He'll be on the same level as the others, maybe better. The rest of your team will never catch up to him, including you. He'll leave you behind and change."

A fleeting image of Aomine flashed through Kuroko's mind, and he felt even sicker. So Kise wasn't dense. He'd played him with his oblivious attitude and steered him toward this outcome of the conversation. He'd played him like a pro, which he probably was, really, given that he worked in showbiz. Kuroko could have whacked himself over the head for not having anticipated this.

The universe seemed to have overheard his inner monologue because, next thing he knew, he felt how a nagging pain unleashed itself over the back of his skull.

"Bastard," Kagami snapped, hand still raised as though he hadn't decided yet whether to hit him again or leave it. "Don't just disappear when you can't even walk straight."

Kuroko was about to retort something when Kise asked, "Were you listening?"

Kagami raised his shoulders, and Kuroko was distinctly reminded of a cat arching its back, ready to hiss and scratch. "Like hell! What did you kidnap him for, anyway?"

"'Kidnap'." Kise rolled his eyes. "It was just a few minutes, geez."

Kagami roared something about how the whole team had been looking for him all over and what a hassle it'd been, but Kuroko had already stopped listening, distracted by shouts ringing across the playground from a nearby basketball court. Some thugs were beating up a couple of boys about his age — trying to threaten them into forfeiting the current game, it seemed.

Anger flooded over him in harsh torrents. Leaving Kagami, Kise and their bickering alone, he jogged over to the field, picked up the forsaken ball and began spinning it on his index finger.

"This is unfair," he said as loudly and intimidating as he could. Perhaps he should have taken Kagami with him to take care of that part.

The hoodlums shrieked. "What the — where did _you_ come from?"

"This is not basketball," Kuroko continued. "You should not hurt others."

Sharing a round of mean grins with his friends, one of them said, "Guys, I think we've got some kind of wannabe hero here." He turned back to Kuroko and snickered. "Well. You want _basketball_, do you?"

"Do you mind if we join you?" Kise cut in coolly, all of a sudden right next to Kuroko.

A big hand rested on his head and ruffled his hair. He peered upward to see Kagami scowling at him.

"Why the heck did you have to butt in, huh?"

The group of thugs gaped at Kise and Kagami in faint terror. A small grin slipped onto Kuroko's mouth.

"Are you afraid you will not be able to beat them?"

Kagami snarled and stomped forward. Happily noting the ruffians' cumulating fear, Kuroko and Kise trailed after him.

* * *

"Did you hear what Kise and I were talking about before?" Kuroko asked later, once the hoodlums had been defeated and Kise had gone home. Although anxious to approach the topic, he wanted to sort it out now rather than later. "About whether we will stay a team? Well, maybe not a real 'team'. We do not even get along, after all."

Kagami gazed at him seriously, and that in itself was unsettling enough, but then he said, "_You_ told me I couldn't make it on my own, and I won't leave the club just like that, so no sweat, alright? Besides, always being by the light's side — that's what your basketball is all about, isn't it?"

Floored, Kuroko fumbled for something to reply. "Last time, you said I was talking big," he muttered, ears burning. "_You_ do, too."

Kagami spluttered, equally flustered, and ordered him to shut up. Out of sheer mortification, Kuroko did.

* * *

There wasn't much time to relax. Aida-san instantly carried on with the preparations for their next and first official game. Their opponent, Shinkyou High School, possessed one strong suit, an exchange student from Senegal, whom Kuroko had dubbed "Dad" in response to the boy's amusingly unlikely first name, "Papa".

Part of Aida-san's preparations comprised an extra joint training regimen for him and Kagami, which Kuroko was pretty partial to. While he was, cognitively, aware of the gradual shift in their relationship from stifled hostility to grudging acceptance, he did not particularly care for the prospect of having to spend more time with Kagami. As good a mechanism they built on the court, he doubted they'd ever boil down to more than partners of convenience, jumbled together by happenstance. In this regard, Kagami was quite the reverse of what Aomine had been.

* * *

Two weeks slipped by, time pulling Kuroko in like quicksand. Despite the shared additional practice, he and Kagami did not talk more than they had before. Partly because they were too exhausted most of the time, partly because neither of them had any inducement to. They weren't friends, and maybe it was better this way for now. The mere thought of the betrayal and loss of another friend gutted him, dug deep into his body, and curled around his insides, all set to rip him apart at any moment. He wasn't ready yet to hand over this much power over himself to another person again.


End file.
